Russia Memoirs
by RyuFanatic
Summary: The time is WWI. Life goes on as usual for Ivan Braginski- being loathed and feared by all, suffering from his mental insanity; things can't get any better. Until one day, he meets a certain person who is completely different from everyone else...
1. Prologues

* Fanfic inspired by _Axis Powers Hetalia _anime and the Russian song "Agony" by Linda, and of course, Russia's interesting and bloody history ^^ (though not all of it was bloody and gory, there were good times also). Also, facts about Russia and its leaders may not be accurate (I don't really trust Wikipedia.. _)

This is purely fanfic! It was something I just had to let out after learning about Russia's strange behavior in the anime and hearing the song and some of the horror in Russia's past. Please do not be offended by anything that may or may not offend you in this fanfic. ^^ *

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And yes me and my melodramatic self is back ;D I notice I always write really depressing, morbid fanfics ._.

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**Part 1**

**Ivan Braginski (Russia) Memoirs. **

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**Prologue 01. Creatures of Winter**

_They all feared him. Kept their distance and talked in nervous tones when addressing him. He could see the horror and uncertainty reflected in their eyes at his massive form, at his rough brutality. He witnessed the stirred conversations about him behind his back; nothing that disrespected him, of course, but everything about their manner made him know that they weren't talking good about him either. And why, he wondered, as he sat in his dark room one day, should it hurt him so? Why, he asked himself, should he care whether he was hated or not?_

_But only at night, when General Winter softly knocked on his window, the snow pounding against the thin wall that separated him from the coldness of his country, did he shiver and feel the icy tears streaming down his cheeks. Only at night, when the moon cast haunting shadows against his motionless form, sitting and staring at the wall, did he experience the most horrible and avid agony in his chest._

_He would huddle into a ball, try his hardest to shut his eyes tight and drown out the flashing images in his head, to erase all the memories that scorched his mind and released the tormenting monsters into the world. And he tried so hard. Tried so hard to keep the part of him that was the most precious thing he had intact- his sanity. His eyes would crack and blood would stream down his cheeks instead of water, the veins on his hands would pulse from his effort of control, and his mouth would open and croak the words, "Kolkolkolkol," again and again. He didn't know who he was cursing; he just knew that the sound of the word was so comforting, that it sent other countries into fear, fear of his power and force._

_But would such a childish threat work on the creatures of winter that ravished and feasted upon him?_

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**Prologue 02. Ivan the IV  
**

_The day Ivan Braginski was born, the world was in a turmoil. Wars slaughtered and tortured the countries around him and wherever he turned, blood rained down upon his land. When he opened his eyes on the evening of his birth, all he saw was a gray, cloudy sky, and white flakes falling from the sky; flakes that turned a dark red as soon as they touched the ground. The crimson color of war, he had thought and remembered to this day._

_He also remembered a young man standing in the snow. Staring at him through veiled eyes. The man opened his mouth and whispered, "Russia, мой сын." His name was Vladimir, the man who was his father, who had tamed the wild country drenched in snow and ice, someone who had, in truth, never really tamed him at all. Decades went by, Vladimir passed away, and his son took over the country of Russia. Ivan, who had always stuck in the shadows while Vladimir was alive, continued to be pressed even farther back. His eyes witnessed the rise and decline of his country, of the numerous rulers who had failed and succeeded, of the Great and Terrible Tsars that destroyed or better him. But in his head, he wished for all the horror to end. He did not like the bloodshed, the killing, that he caused. Ivan would have given anything to keep the peace that occasionally graced Russia, when someone powerful yet fair led his country without the slaughtering of thousands of people. But peace was always short-lived and when it ceased, the blood forever stained Russia's snow._

_One Tsar in particular would always haunt him. It was Ivan the IV, someone named after him, who changed him into the person he was now._

_Ivan the IV was the very first of the Tsars and he ruled with an iron fist. Though most described him as strict rather than cruel, there was a ruthlessness in his manner that scarred the lives of his people. When Ivan the IV was just a child, his father died of blood poisoning and later on, his mother was murdered by poisoning. And so, the young boy was thrust into the Shuisky family, where he was neglected and abused. It didn't help that Ivan was already unstable, suffering from a mental disorder that caused him to occasionally break down and go insane._

_He had always been in pain. When his first wife died and his illness nearly caused his death, Ivan's personality changed. He became suspicious of betrayal and revolt from those around him and murdered when necessary. Soon, war broke out in Russia and with the combination of droughts, famine, and a deadly plague, the number of dead rose to over 10,000. Ivan the IV eventually grew so unbalanced and violent that he ordered his followers to burn and pillage the city of Novgorod. This came to be known as the 1570 Massacre of Novgorod, where over 60,000 people lost their lives._

_So cruel and pitiful was Ivan the IV that Ivan Braginski himself was affected. As the Tsar continuously battled the dark creatures of his mind, Ivan had stood in the background and watched. There were so many things he remembered about the Tsar- the way the hands of the dead clung to him until the day of his actual death; the complete despair and sadness on Ivan's face as he sat in his room and stared at the ceiling, his gaze wide and fearful, mumbling incoherent words under his breath…_

_Ivan Braginski could close his eyes and clearly feel the pain in his heart as he had the day he witnessed the Tsar slowly and steadily break down, tearing at his skin until blood surfaced from the wounds; could hear the man's chilling scream of agony as his mind gradually deteriorated into dust. On that day, tears had formed in Ivan's eyes as he heard the Tsar's hollow whisper, "__Я хочу мира в паразитической вещи, которая является моим разумом__. Peace and nothing else."_

_When Ivan the IV passed away, Ivan Braginski had quietly stood over the man's grave and paid his respect. But a deep chill had crept up his back as he realized that some kind of transformation had overtaken him. After that day, Ivan began to have nightmares more frequently. Before, of course, he always felt an ache in his heart at the thousands laying dead on his snowy land, but now it was worse. Every night, the image of Ivan the IV tortured his mind, the man's struggle and the blood slipping from the bodies he had hacked…_

_The inescapable anguish the Tsar had experienced now suddenly flowed through his veins. Whenever he gazed upon the collapsed landscape of Russia, Ivan felt a deep and icy hatred well in his chest. Rage and sorrow intertwined themselves to form the new him… and Ivan soon became as hard as the frozen snow, as cruel as the endless, raging winter._

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**Prologue 03. Dreams of Sunflowers**

_Ivan Braginski always hated sleeping. When he slept, it was so bitterly cold. The white snow cushioned his head, but as he closed his eyes, it turned into a beast that pushed against him, trying to tear him apart with its cold fingers. Every night, he would have to force himself to keep his eyes shut and ignore the urge to scream and run to a place where there was no snow. No snow to haunt him, to remind him of the past._

_His dreams were always disjointed. Bits and pieces of mock fantasies about peaces and alliances, an end to all wars and prosperity for everyone. But no matter what, they were always mixed in with the ugly truth and terror of reality._

_And so, because of this, Ivan Braginski rarely slept unless he had to. When he was tired, he would fall down on the snow and raise his face upward to the sky, empty his mind out, and stare. Pictures would flash through him, but they weren't, for once, about war. He saw places leading out to a wide and expansive forest, of an ancient building with vines woven on its walls, a beautiful field full of lovely and bright flowers. Ivan laid there staring and he could almost make himself believe that he was in that field, smelling the sweet aroma of the flowers surrounding him._

_It was his first escape from reality._

_When the wars escalated and all he could see were corpses everywhere, when the other countries feared his mercilessness and secretly wished for his death, Ivan found the field to be his sanctuary. It was so easy to forget everything once he was laying and gazing into the dark sky. So easy to ignore all around him and imagine himself dancing through the boundless rows of flowers._

_And with that, he slowly begin to embrace dreams again. The first night he dared to close his eyes and sleep, Ivan was peacefully thinking of the flowers that glowed a brilliant yellow. In his dreams, the field was as it was in his imagination, and the glow from the golden flowers caused tears to flow down his face. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life._

_The dreams soon became his second escape._

_As Ivan spent several years battling his broken mind, the only thing keeping him sane was the field and the wild, blooming flowers the color of sunlight. He relished the feeling of happiness in his heart and the peace in his mind when he slept and dreamed those sweet dreams. Decades passed and everything was well. Maybe, Ivan had thought, peace will stay forever this time._

_But he had hoped in vain._

_In the year 1914, the beginning of the World War surfaced. Russia was thrust into the chaos unexpectedly, unwillingly._

_On September the 17th of 1914, Ivan tiredly came home drained with a headache, collapsed onto the dirty snow, and upon closing his eyes, realized that his dreams were changed. The nightmares had come back. The field and flowers were still there, but the background was now dark red, opposed to its normally blue one. In the dream, he had frantically scrambled to smooth out the flowers' petals only to find them stained with chalky blood. Ivan had woken up screaming, the snow pressing down upon him again._

_The torment was back, the torture continuously severing him. It seemed as though, this time, things were worse. He grew more unstable, but unlike before, Ivan kept it inside until he was well away from others and gradually emptied his emotions by harming himself. Alone, in the cold world of Russia, Ivan sadly tore at his body and shredded his feelings into bit and pieces of nothing._

_"__Я стану самым холодны на этой планете__," he had whispered to the icy wind. "And others will continue to hate me… for the hatred I hold in myself."_

_

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Translations_:_

мой сын - my son

Я хочу мира в паразитической вещи, которая является моим разумом - I wish for peace in the parasitic thing that is my mind

Я стану самой холодной вещью на этой планете - I will become the coldest thing on this planet

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&& please leave reviews (if choo has time) so I can improve my writing :D

**Haha, thanks so much **RusCSI** for the correct translations! -huggles you-


	2. Chapter 1

**Part 2**

**Ivan Braginski (Russia) Memoirs.**

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**Chapter One:  
Conference**

_Time: November 20, 1914  
Place: Conference of Allied Powers_

Ivan Braginski wasn't sure if he should knock or not. The wooden door was so tightly shut and he could already hear the heated debating within. Surely France and England were fighting again and Italy would most likely be lounging in the back of the room, staring out of the window. _Well, there's nothing to lose_, Ivan sighed and putting on his best mask- the one that expressed a heavy childishness and ignorance- he entered the room.

The silence was immediate; every head swiveled to stare at him. The atmosphere was suddenly wary and full of tension. Ivan felt himself grow slightly angry at their usual responses to his presence, but forced his visage and tone to remain neutral. "I'm sorry for the lateness!" Ivan said in a cheerful, sweet voice, "I must have forgotten to set my alarm this morning, da." He cast them a small smile, one that was intended to pacify them, but the looks of terror continued.

"H-hello Russia," Feliciano Vargas- Italy -blurted out and forced a smile back.

"We were wondering when you'd get here," England's Arthur Kirkland said airily, but the look of slight annoyance on Ivan's face caused him to balk.

"Well, well, since we're all present now," Francis Bonnefoy of France hastily intervened, "let us discuss the Central Powers' situation at this moment." He launched into a full account of the latest happenings in the last few months.

"They are currently piling troops onto the main front of Paris. The numbers of casualty in my country has become increasingly larger… Germany is learning as he continues to push his way into our united bases…"

"The Central Powers have begun to improvise," Arthur interrupted grimly. "They're using zeppelins to bomb London and reduce the number of my soldiers there and near the Isles."

"We can't keep going like this!" Feliciano exclaimed tearfully. "They'll have us on our knees in no time! What can we do?"

"Stop panicking, for one thing," Arthur growled. "We don't need bloody cowards and sniveling idiots on our side."

"Now, England," Francis sighed, "there's no need to chastise him in such ways…"

"I wasn't-!"

Ivan slowly began to tune out their conversation- an argument, really -and turned his attention to the outside window instead. They were in Manchester, England's territory, in a stuffy room on a stuffy November evening. Outside, the sun was already down and the sky a murky gray-red. He wondered what Italy saw when he gazed out the window every start of their meetings. Because what he saw made him strangely rueful and achingly sad at the same time. No snow. It probably didn't snow much in England, and he had visited Manchester a few times before; but still, Ivan couldn't get used to it. All his life, he had been surrounded by the soft ice that gently fell from the sky. Now this completely alien and bare landscape… unsettled him.

"… What do you think, Russia?"

Ivan blinked, his thoughts retuning to the present, and glanced over at the three men across from him. Their eyes were nervous, their stance jittery, and their smiles were completely fake. Waiting for his input.

"Da?" Ivan asked, remembering to beam back.

"What do you think about sending some of your soldiers to assist England?" Francis asked politely. "They seem to be aiming for his land more than ours at this time. It would greatly help us."

"Please," Feliciano added. The smile was stretching widely over his features. "I'm sure this little favor would shift the tides over to our side."

"We would be indebt to you," Arthur chimed in.

All three hastened to keep their eyes and manner friendly.

_They don't trust me_, Ivan thought as he stared into their sweating faces. _It's like I'm a wild beast, They act as though I'm not even on their side; as though, if they didn't ask nicely, I'd leave their alliance and not aide them._

идиоты. _Idiots._

He couldn't help but narrow his eyes in contempt and slight hurt. They flinched pitifully, and for some reason, that stirred his anger even more. Ivan felt like saying no and he imagined the monster in him running loose and ripping their heads off, flinging it through the window and into the stone courtyard outside. He was even on the verge of rising from his seat and lumbering towards them.

But then he caught himself mid-way. The terrible revelation of his intent pricked his conscience and a wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Ivan suddenly felt drained as he reassured them, "Da, of course!" He titled his head to the side cheerfully, brightly. "Use all the soldiers you need, wherever you need them. Don't be afraid to ask for anything… Russia is on your side~"

Relief flashed across their face and the trio settled back down in their seats again. Ivan could imagine the words running through their heads at that moment- _Phew. We managed to survive that one._

_Maybe I am a beast_, he thought as he continued to nod and smile whenever one of the three Allies turned his way. _Maybe it's good that they don't trust me; sometimes I barely trust my own self-control._

_

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_

The conference had finally come to an end, and the Allies were satisfied with the work they got done. All except for Ivan, of course. He hated the idiotic meetings England hosted, hated knowing that he was despised even though he was the one who always had to send his soldiers into the line of fire. The one who sacrificed the most to end the war.

Ivan was more than glad when the conference was dismissed and rushed to escape the confines of the room; he could even hear the sighs of relief as he exited and knew that the other Allies were just as happy to see him leave. _I really want to go home_, Ivan tiredly. _I wish to go home and lay in the snow. To dream of… flowers bathed in yellow light._

He stepped out of the building and into the dim glow of the evening sun. It would take about eight hours to get out of Manchester and another day or so to return to his home in Russia. Ivan already dreaded the trip back. Sighing, he squinted his eyes against the glare of dusk and started down the street. Of course he didn't expect anyone to offer to take him home, even though they knew he didn't have an automobile to get to the airport with. _Never expect anything from those __европейцев_, Ivan thought. _They only use you when they need you… and then it's over from there._

But the idiotic yet unavoidable thought entered his head. _Я хотел бы, чтобы они заботились__..._ Sudden despair washed over him; the numbing sensation of coldness enveloped his entire soul, until he froze on the very spot. Such intense, terrifying pain, the beast clawing through his inside, reaching to take over. _I wish they would care!_ He kept imagining their stupid faces, their eyes always so widely insulting, sneering at him; trying their hardest to be nice and friendly but actually, obviously, loathing him with every breath they breathed. Ivan couldn't understand… couldn't understand why it bothered him so much. Why it should hurt him even worse than the monster ravaging his mind.

"Почему?" Ivan whispered in Russian, clenching his fists and staring wide-eyed at the ground. "почему, почему, почему?" Confused tears welled up in his eyes, and it made him even angrier. No matter what I do, I can't seem to control my emotions anymore. "What can be done, with a person like me?"

There was a brief silence, and then it was broken by a scuffling of feet.

…

Ivan flinched, whirling around to the source of noise. His pale eyes widened in shock. A young man was leaning back against the brick wall of the building, surveying him with cool, vermillion eyes. The man's gaze held no fear at the sight of him, held nothing but a blank, cold expression. A sudden and strange vehemence filled Ivan's chest and his mouth lifted in a snarl. Who was this person to stand there and secretly watch him?

_Who is he to witness my sorrow?_

Slowly, carefully adjusting his voice into its usual happy tenor, Ivan said with a smile, "Privet! May I ask who are you, da?"

It took a few seconds for the man to answer, and when he did, there was a carefully guarded edge in his voice. "I am Artemis," he answered in a slow drawl. "Artemis Lurfurr. But you may call me whatever it is that you wish." The man smiled crookedly and his silver-blonde hair flashed over his eyes.

The Russian's own eyes narrowed automatically. This person wasn't going to give out his nation any time soon. Ivan cast a cursory glance over at Artemis's uniform and found nothing to draw from it. But then, as he looked a bit closer, he could make out a cross-like necklace tucked in the man's shirt. _Now this was slightly familiar…_

As though reading Ivan's mind, Artemis hastily shuffled out of the Russian's view, and lowered his eyes to the ground. When he spoke again, the tone was neutrally cold. "So," Artemis said softly, "I'm really curious to know who _you_ are."

Ivan almost laughed aloud. He thought everyone knew who he was- mighty Russia, the giant menace, the crazy maniac who would tear you to shreds if you made him angry… _The monster._

"I am Ivan Braginski," he replied, still all-smiles. And at the last minute, with only slight hesitation, added, "Of Russia."

The words had the right impact. Ivan watched as Artemis's eyes widened in immense surprise. _Ah there. He knows to be afraid now… he finally sees-_

There was silence, and then Artemis gave a curt nod. "I see," the man murmured, indifferent. "You're not what I had imagined. Not at all."

Ivan was shocked once again. Never before had a person said anything like that to him. Vaguely, the thought popped up in his head, _This person is showing no sign of fear… Why is that so?_ Who _is he?_

But before Ivan could answer him, there was a loud shout from the Conference building. "I swear I saw that rascal spy somewhere here! I know he's here!" Arthur's blonde head emerged from the door of the building, rage reddening his cheeks as he glanced left and right down the street.

"Damn," Artemis cursed. He stepped back from the open, and with a quick, intense stare at Russia, he mouthed, "Do not say a word of me." And then he was gone, into the shadows of a dark corner, almost as abruptly as he'd appeared. For a second, Ivan just stood there and blinked at the empty spot.

_…What?_

But then, at that moment, Arthur's gaze landed on the Russian. His face paled at once, but then they suddenly became thoughtful. "Why, Russia!" the English man called cheerfully as he approached Ivan. "I have something to ask of you."

Still bemused by the quick turn of events, Ivan could only murmur, "да?"

Arthur paused, looking unsure of what he was about to say. Then, in a rush, he whispered, "I believe we have ourselves a spy from the Central Powers. His name is Prussia. France knows him from a few years ago and Austria has had many conflicts with this man… We think he is secretly in league with Germany and they've sent him here to watch over our meetings."

A spy?

"Is the Central Powers so terrified of us that they would resort to this method, da?"

Arthur half-nodded and shrugged, so intent on the spy that he almost forgot his fear of Ivan. "I'm afraid so. I was wondering if you had seen any signs of this man. We need to catch him and apprehend him as soon as possible."

"Hmm." Ivan raised his head to the sky, thinking. "Prussia, da?" In truth, he'd never really taken note of that country, didn't even know the name of the man or his origin.

"Prussia's actual name is Gilbert Beilschmidt," Arthur added, reading Ivan's mind. "He is fairly medium height, with light hair and piercing eyes."

Well that helped. There had to be hundreds of men with medium height, light hair, and piercing eyes. "What is the fashion of his uniform?" Ivan prodded.

Arthur sighed helplessly. "Well, that's the problem. He changes them so very often that no one can keep track anymore."

"Then I can not help you, идиот." Ivan tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but it was hard to conceal. What did England expect, with all the vague hints about this spy? "I have not seen anyone like that around."

Arthur vaguely wondered what Ivan just called him, but found it best not to question. The Russian looked like he was spacing out already, anyways...

The image of Artemis flashed through Ivan's head. _"Do not say a word of me."_ Now here was a suspicious person. It was oddly tempting to "say a word" about Artemis to Arthur, but then Ivan saw the look of deep loathing cast his way, and immediately dismissed the thought.

"I think I will start for home now, da~" the Russian abruptly stated, eyes bright. "The flight will be quite awhile and I am in a rush to return to my country."

It wasn't true, of course. He could already imagine the horrors he would experience once back in Russia, the deadly nightmares and biting cold of winter and snow. But it was better than sticking around here in Arthur's territory, with his hatred boiling over the rim.

"Oh, I see," Arthur said a bit wearily. "Well then Russia-san, I guess I'll see you at our next meeting. Don't forget to deploy your troops to my base… Though of course you would never forget that… Hahaha…." Arthur's laughter was weak and fell flat as he hurriedly made his way back to the tall building.

"Я не забуду..." Ivan sighed when the door to the entrance slammed shut. He looked up at the gray sky once and buried his head against his warm scarf.

"How could I ever forget something so important?" His thoughts suddenly switched to Artemis. Eyes narrowing, the Russian added,

_Or someone so suspicious._

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_Translations:_

Privet = Hello

да = Yes

идиот = Idiot ; идиоты = Idiots

европейцев = Europeans

Я хотел бы, чтобы они заботились... = I wish they would care...

Почему = Why

Я не забуду... = I won't forget...

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*-dead- So many incorrect translations D: -kicks google- Ty again **RusCSI** :3*

Reviews would be helpful :D

Btw, I made up the date of the conference and as you can already suspect, Artemis isn't the guy's real name


	3. Chapter 2

**Part 3**

**Ivan Braginski (Russia) Memoirs.**

**

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****Chapter Two:  
General Winter's Gift**

After the long and exhausting trip back to Russia, all Ivan wanted to do was fall asleep and hope beyond hope that his dream wouldn't be tainted by blood again. But, with a sigh, Ivan decided to head back to his house in Moscow before one of his tenants worried themselves silly over him. Well, "worry" wasn't exactly the right word; it was more of a _when-will-Russia-be-back-so-I-can-prepare-myself-for-him_ kind of deal.

Ivan shared his house with the three Baltic countries, three different nations with three different origins. They were Toris of Lithuania, Raivis of Latvia, and Eduard of Estonia, and they feared him like no other. The Baltics depended on his support and power least their empires collapsed and they were friendless. They constantly worried that, one day, Ivan would turn against them and ruin their lives, so the three opted to please the all-mighty Russia and remain on his good side.

Sometimes, however, no matter what they did, Ivan couldn't help but unleash his wrath upon one of them. Maybe it was the cruelty in his heart, or the way they always trembled when they stared into his eyes, but Ivan found one way or another to torture them whenever he visited the house.

But that day, as he continued his slow walk towards Moscow, Ivan considered the Baltics' situation. They really, really needed him; he was willing to provide them with a home. A home that, in truth, he never really lived in much. But the things he did, the aura he cast upon the house, was almost liken to bullying. _I_, Ivan paused and thought in surprise, _am a bully?_ He had never really admitted it, never imagined that the things he said, the way he said them, and the actions he took could ever be called _bullying_.

Ivan glanced upward at the increasingly dark sky. Only a few more miles until he reached his estate in Moscow. Once there, everything would be routine. He would have to endure the look of terror in the eyes of others when they saw his massive form, endure the way they always talked about him behind his back, whispering words that stung and pricked his heart.

Once there, he would have to be careful not to let the beast run loose and tear everything and everyone apart.

_And I must learn to treat my "__союзников__" better._

_

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_

When he finally reached the large house that he shared with Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, it was late evening and the snow was coming down in a torrent. The wind blew so roughly that Ivan had to plant his feet with each step or be lifted into the air and sky. He was relieved when he found the door unlocked.

"Privet! I am back," Ivan called as he entered the house, brushing flakes of frost off his head. He tried to make the smile on his face heart-felt. "I am back, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia!"

Ivan waited a second for them to rush down and greet him. When nothing stirred, he just shrugged and entered the kitchen. Ivan wasn't expecting much from the three- he _had_ disappeared for about two weeks without so much as a notice. It was true that he didn't live in this house very much. Before he'd met the Baltic countries, Ivan hadn't even considered the possibility of building any sort of structural… _confinement_ to waste his life away in. Outside, in the constant cold, was where he usually spent his days, where he usually walked aimlessly round and about, and then fell flat to the ground and slept. Now, even with a building to "come home" to, Ivan still found himself wandering in the wilderness. Sometimes months on end.

"I will just find something to eat then," Ivan tried loudly, his voice echoing around the emptiness. "Если вам это интересно," he added a bit ruefully. The kitchen was spotless, as usual; Lithuania knew how to manage it to perfection, and his cooking was just as splendid.

There wasn't much to eat that night, so Ivan settled for leftover soup in the fridge. As he sat down, the silence in the room deepened and only the humming of the refrigerator kept him from going insane. And then, the wind howling on the window, almost like a knock, was what made him realize it. Ivan froze in the middle of swallowing, his lavender eyes widened. Suddenly, the spoon in his hand fell to the floor and in one swift movement, he was at the window.

_It's… tonight._

His eyes hastily peered out to the wilderness. It was a pitch-black wasteland, with only the dark snow staining the ground. Outside, a blue blizzard was raging. Outside, the wind was pounding against the wall, clawing its way across the boundless Russian snow. And outside, General Winter was racing towards him.

Ivan had avoided him for the week in Manchester. He had avoided him for the three days coming back to Moscow. But now, General Winter would make up for the lost time. And, dear God, it frightened Ivan to no ends. The nightmares would become worse- they always were when General Winter visited -and this time, when he woke up, he would find blood all over his clothes. Blood that wasn't his.

The watery soup began to taste sour in his mouth. Tasted like metallic iron. Ivan jerked his chair out of the way and shoved the bowl off the table. It cracked against the wall, the liquid slowly sliding down onto the floor.

"Пожалуйста, нет," Ivan moaned as a headache drilled into his skull. His hands clenched automatically until blue veins popped over his skin.

His mind replayed the words the General always whispered to him when he came. _"General Winter is here, братец,"_ he'd say in Ivan's ear. _"I have helped you. Helped you win your little wars, helped you bathe in the crimson liquid of your enemies, as they lay dying on this snowy land. And in return, you will let me play with you for awhile. Let me take you to the fields and watch you shoot down the little people on this snowy land, and let me control your every movement. __Ты сдашься мне, и твоя жизнь будет моей. __For just awhile."_

He could already feel the soft, soothing caress of General Winter's hand on his cheek. Beckoning him to obey, to give in. And if he gave in, he would wake up swimming in the blood of the ones he'd killed- the ones General Winters had killed.

_"__Твоя жизнь будет моей__..."_

"NO!" Ivan screamed and slammed his fist against the wall. His eyes clamped shut, trying to drown out the pounding of his head.

Lithuania's voice suddenly cried out, "Russia-san? Are you okay?"

His vision was almost fading, and he barely registered anything as three forms emerged from nowhere. The taller of the trio reached to steady him as he lost his balance.

"What's wrong with him?" a small voice whispered.

"I think it's General Winter. Tonight's the night, isn't it?"

"Yes… he's been gone for quite awhile now…"

Ivan struggled to talk, but his mouth wouldn't open. He wanted to tell them to run, to get away before General Winter came to rip them apart. A chill settled in the room, freezing his thoughts in one quick swipe of air. Ivan squinted through his haze, trying to see, trying to prepare himself. But his search was met with a pale, deathly white face. He was here.

Ivan's eyes dilated hysterically, his mouth formed a silent shout of horror.

General Winter slowly leaned over his body, wrapping him in a heavy shadow, and then it was like no one else was there anymore. The room morphed into a black-gray color, and hazy swirls of snow floated around them. Just him and his tormenter now.

_"Иван..."_ the man whispered. _"__Я здесь__."_

"Нет," Ivan said softly. "Пожалуйста, не совершай этого, General. Please, not tonight. I have just arrived back from England… I am torn and exhausted. I will die if you do this to me. And if I die, you will too." _Maybe_, Ivan thought wearily, _that is for the best._

But the ghost of a man just laughed. _"Бедный мальчик,"_ the General said mournfully, as if he actually meant it. _"__Бедненький...бедняжка...__."_ And he cocked his head to the side in a musing manner, like he was really considering Ivan's plead. General Winter's next words were slightly sardonic yet rueful. _"Hmm, you are right,"_ the man murmured. _"I see that your mind is close to snapping, that you might even lose your life if I lead you through the snowy land. хорошо тогда. I will, only for this night, take your well-being into account."_

Ivan could hardly believe it. His eyes became wide with relief. "Спасибо, General," he whispered after he'd found his voice. "Большое вам спасибо-"

_"но,"_ General Winter interrupted. _"__Я бы хотел дать тебе кое-что__, Иван,"_ An icy cold hand reached down to touch Ivan's face. _"Подарок, if you will. A homecoming gift."_

Unease marked Ivan's expression. "It is fine," he said quickly. "This is more than enough, sir-"

_"Нет,"_ the General murmured breezily, and the man's long, billowing cloak whirled in the air and encircled Ivan's body. _"__Прими это__, Иван. Accept my gift to you."_

The General laughed, a dark booming laugh that resounded endlessly in Ivan's head. He reached a hand out and pierced two fingers into Ivan's skull, watching as the Russian screamed in agony. Before removing the indentions, General Winter smiled and whispered in Ivan's ear, _"__Спи, мой мальчик. Спи.__"_

And so, as General Winter released Ivan's body from his hold, and as he fell to the ground in a bloody mess, Ivan closed his eyes and began to dream.

* * *

_It was raining. But he knew it wasn't the normal type of rain; if it was, he wouldn't find his hands filling up with sticky, thick liquid. Wouldn't find a dark red, almost black coating the ground underneath him, slipping as he took one step forward into a distant landscape. He was standing in the middle of the field, the field that was his sanctuary, where the sun once beamed down and warmly touched him. Now, there was no sun, and no flowers._

_Ivan squinted through the blurry darkness of the rain, wishing his vision would clear so he could concentrate on figuring out what General Winter's surprise was. Never before had the General expressed pity to him, and never had he offered Ivan a "gift." But right now, it seemed more like another nightmare._

_He walked on slowly, the weight of the water pushing him down. Ivan could still feel the massive headache from where General Winter had pierced his skull, and it was only his will that kept him from screaming and writhing on the ground in pain._

_After wandering aimlessly, tiredly, for a few miles, wondering if days had passed in his dream, Ivan finally stumbled upon a lump on the ground. He cried out in joy- it was the first tangible thing he'd seen since arriving in the barren field. The shape was hard to tell in the rain, but he knew it was a plant of some sort. The roots were stuck in the ground, and the soft petals were strangely rough and sticky._

_Ivan carefully leaned over and pried the object from the dirt. It was light, but the head of it tipped forward into his lap, and a rich, flowing liquid splashed on his clothing._

_…О Боже Мой._

_Nothing but horror registered in his mind at that moment, as he stared down at the broken, limp thing._

_General Winter had gifted him… and cursed him._

_Tears streamed down his cheek as Ivan gently lifted the object to the sky, to intercept the drops of rain._

_The Russian sobbed aloud, clutching the flower to his chest. His smile was painfully insane._

_"подсолнечник."_

_

* * *

_

None of the three Baltic countries said a word when they watched Russia's eyes roll to the back of his head. Not a word when he began to shake uncontrollably and trickles of dark liquid poured from his head. And of course, they hadn't made a sound or movement when tears suddenly fell from his closed eyes.

Only when more blood mysteriously appeared on his clothing and a dark, shriveled mass of petals floated around his head did Lithuania finally open his mouth.

"We must do something," he said softly. "Russia-san is in great pain."

But they only continued to gaze down upon him. None of the three knew if he was stable enough to touch, if moving him would cause more damage or help. And, of course, they were beyond terrified of the man. He was a bully; he had harmed them emotionally and physically at times. _But_, Lithuania's eyes softened just a bit, _he suffered more than he ever let on. And he did provide them with a home._

"We can try," Lithuania muttered. He turned to the brown-haired man beside him. "Estonia, can you lift him up and apply pressure on the wound?" Estonia nodded and transferred the weight on Ivan's head from the ground to his hand. "And Latvia, can you find me the medicine box in the cabinet?" The youngest of the three quickly rushed to the living room and scrambled to hand Lithuania the salve.

After Lithuania finished bandaging Russia's head and the three moved him to the living room sofa, there was nothing left to do but wait. Lithuania was restless and kept circling the room to keep himself busy, least he glanced over at Russia's sleeping form. Just looking at his body, all bloodied and broken, made Lithuania feel a strange and pitied ache in his chest. You wouldn't even suspect that this same person could single-handedly murder countless people, or go on a crazed rampage and harm _himself_. "What is it with you, Russia-san?" Lithuania whispered. "You don't like me, and I don't like you. Yet, why is it so hard to see you in pain?"

The silence in the room was only broken by Estonia's calm voice. His hand gently rested on the other's shoulder. "It's okay, Lithuania," he murmured. "We feel the same way." Latvia nodded and joined the two as they gazed down at Ivan. All eyes mirrored Lithuania's confusion and concern.

_Is it really okay?_

_

* * *

_

Hours later, when Ivan woke up, drenched in sweat and blood, he found the three Baltic countries asleep on the sofa beside him. The headache was still there, but the bandage slightly dulled the pain, and when he glanced down at himself, the blood on his clothing had dried. _I wonder how much time has passed_, he thought. The room seemed to spin as he sat up, and a weight in his left hand dragged him back down again. It was the flower, he now knew to be called a "sunflower", and it was as beautiful as it was in his dreams. But the brilliant glow from the sunflower was masked by a dark hue in the middle; red liquid dripped from the petals onto the ground.

"It looks more like a _snowflower_," Ivan whispered to himself, lifting the flower above his head.

"Russia-san…?" a sleepy voice called from his right. Latvia yawned and blinked his eyes.

Ivan had almost forgotten that the three were there, and now he finally realized who had bandaged his head and placed him here on the sofa. Latvia's eyes cleared from drowsiness as he asked, "Are you okay, Russia-san?"

_They really cared enough to do this?_ Ivan smiled, his own eyes softened, and gently petted Latvia on the head. Surprisingly, the boy didn't flinch as bad as he usually did. "да, I am fine. Really," he added at Latvia's skeptical look.

"But what is that?" Latvia's attention was now on the drooping mass in Ivan's clenched fist.

"This?" Ivan gazed thoughtfully at the sunflower, and his mouth curled up in a cold smile. "Подарок," he murmured, and when he looked at Latvia again, the boy saw that the beast was only just being contained. "A gift from General Winter."

_The first sunflower I have ever seen in my entire life._

_

* * *

_

Translations:

союзников = allies

Если вам это интересно = If you guys care

Пожалуйста, нет = Please, no

братец = my boy

Ты сдашься мне, и твоя жизнь будет моей = You will surrender yourself to me and your life will be mine.

Твоя жизнь будет моей = Your life will be mine

Иван = Ivan

Я здесь = I am here

Нет = No

Пожалуйста, не совершай этого = Please, do not do this to me

Бедный мальчик = Poor boy

Бедненький...бедняжка... = Poor, poor thing.

хорошо тогда = Well then

(This one got butchered so many times while I was trying to find the right translation n_n Originally, it should say "Fine then" but couldn't find it so I settled with "Well then" ]: ... I'm sure it's still not right...)

Спасибо = Thank you

Большое вам спасибо = Thank you so much

Я бы хотел дать тебе кое-что = I wish to give you something

Подарок = A gift

Прими это = Accept it

Спи, мой мальчик. Спи.= Dream, my boy. Dream.

О Боже Мой = Oh my God

a подсолнечник = A sunflower

да = yes

* * *

*AHH! I feel like I abused the Russian language when I did this chapter T.T So many long words and sentences, I'm totally sure I butchered the translations;; Forgive mehh D:

GRAWR Thank youuuuuu again **RusCSI** D: ! I'm kinda scared to use anymore Cyrillic in this story xD I'll just mess it up so again C: *

I used a lot of Cyrillic in this Chapter because Ivan is talking with General Winter, and I wanted to be "in element" for the two, if you catch my drift :

Reviews are welcomed with hugs and sunflowers :3

Btw, I know the countries don't hate Ivan _that_ much, and I feel bad for making this like a soap opera but... I can't stop.. n_n


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